


i saw daddy kissing santa claus

by phae



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 14:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phae/pseuds/phae
Summary: No child should be sad at Christmastime, so of courseClintSanta is going to step in and save the day.





	i saw daddy kissing santa claus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bagheera95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagheera95/gifts).



> This is a direct sequel to [rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very plastic nose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5735425), so it's best to read that one first!

Phil struggles through the main door into the apartment building, arms strung high with plastic grocery bags and Skye clinging to his neck as she sobs softly into his jacket. He’s just maneuvering around so that he can bump the elevator call button with his hip when a warm hand lands on his shoulder and Clint Barton’s beautifully angled face pops up in front of him, a worried frown maring his features.

 

Clint lifts the bag handles off Phil’s arms pointedly, and with a relieved sigh, Phil relinquishes their weight to the tender mercies of Clint’s incredible arms, shuffling Skye first to one side and then the other as Clint peels the bags away. She doesn’t lift her head, and there’s no pause in her weeping as they get into the elevator and silently ride up to their floor.

 

Clint trails behind dutifully as Phil slowly unearths his keys from his pocket and gets the apartment door open. Phil then waves him in the direction of the kitchen counter and goes to lay Skye down in her bed. She’s been crying so long that now she’s just exhausted, and hopefully a nap will do wonders to improve her dashed holiday spirit. Phil tucks her in and kisses her mussed hair before leaving her to sleep and rejoining Clint in the kitchen.

 

“She okay?” Clint immediately asks.

 

Phil shrugs helplessly. “She will be.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Ah, well.” Phil leans into the counter and drops his head forward wearily. “We were going to see Santa, but there was some kind of emergency with the actor or something, and Santa’s Village was closed early. Which would have been fine, but then when we were coming back from the store, there was a radio commercial for this holiday station, and “Santa” saying that if you’re on the Naughty List, you’ll only hear static instead of carols, which is of course when we went into the tunnel and everything went to static.”

 

“Uh oh.” Clint’s voice is just as mournful as Phil currently feels. The sympathy is very much appreciated.

 

“Yes, so now Skye is convinced she’s done something irredeemable to land herself on the Naughty List and Santa will never her love again.”

 

They share a short, commiserating silence, and then Clint says, “She’s a future little tech genius, huh?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Phil blinks up at Clint in confusion, thrown off by the abrupt change in subject.

 

Clint waves a hand around to encapsulate the whole apartment in the gesture. “Well, there’s all kinds of hi-tech gadgets around here, but given all the kid-friendly cases, I’m guessing she uses ‘em more often than you?”

 

It takes Phil a moment to catch up to what Clint means, but then he looks around his apartment and actually takes in all the devices: the tablet with the purple, oversized case with child-sized handholds; the glittery stickers decorating the back of his laptop; the button decals he’d added to the BluRay player since “invisible” was some kind of new trend; the remote control abandoned on Skye’s bean bag chair. He lifts one shoulder, smiling self-deprecatingly. “Kids these days with technology are like ducks taking to the water.”

 

Clint nods decisively. “Cool. I can definitely work with that. You guys aren’t heading out again tonight, are you?”

 

Caught out again, Phil can only gape and then reply, “No, we’ll be here. Why?”

 

Clint lifts a hand and waves it dismissively as he’s backing out of the apartment, already pulling his cell from his jacket and fiddling with something on the screen. “Just give me a couple hours to get everything together,” he says. “And the magic’ll be restored, promise!”

 

Phil belatedly waves goodbye after him, not entirely sure what’s just happened, but buoyed by Clint’s implication that he’d soon return.

 

* * *

 

And oh, what a return it is.

 

Phil’s sitting on the edge of Skye’s bed, rubbing her back consolingly. She’d woken from her nap no longer crying, but still somber, and it’s breaking Phil’s poor old heart to see his baby girl so dejected. Nothing he says, no promise he makes her about how sure he is that she’s on Santa’s Nice List, is having any effect, and he’s not sure how he’s meant to convince her.

 

But then a loud, booming voice comes from the hallway just outside their apartment door, exclaiming, “Ho ho ho! Is this the place, Rudolph?”

 

Like a rocket, Skye shoots up instantly and nearly topples herself in her mad dash for the door. Phil follows after quickly, scooping her up before she can swing the door open wide and letting her look through the peephole first.

 

“Santa!” she gasps. Her legs start kicking in a desperate attempt to get down as she excitedly exclaims, “Daddy, it’s Santa! Open it, open it, open it!”

 

Setting her down as gently as her flailing about will allow, Phil reaches over her head to unlock the door and pull it open, only to be greeted by Clint, decked out to the nines in a Santa suit, hat and belly and sack and all, with Lucky in his Rudolph get-up sitting at his side, tail thumping the floor.

 

“Santa! Rudolph!” Skye squeals. Lucky jumps forward then to kiss her hello, and she hugs him tight. Phil makes the most of her distracted moment to hold a silent conversation with Clint that’s all pointed looks and raised eyebrows. It ends when Clint finally just shrugs and smiles at him winningly, and Phil gives in with a grin and a nod of thanks.

 

“You must be Skye,” Clint says as he bends down to offer her a hand in greeting, his voice pitched lower than usual and with a lilting cadence he doesn’t normally affect. “Rudolph’s been singing your praises back at the North Pole! Thank you for sharing your carrots with him.”

 

Skye looks up from where she’s buried her face in Lucky’s scruff, her face taken over with a look of absolute wonder and awe. “You’re welcome,” she replies shyly.

 

“Would it be alright if I came in for a moment?” Clint asks, looking from her to Phil, and Phil steps back to open the door wider.

 

Once they’re all inside, Skye still holding tight to Lucky, Clint looks to Skye and says, “Now then, Rudolph mentioned you were having a bad day. And it just so happens to be my job to ensure no child is sad at Christmas time. Have you been a good girl this year?”

 

Eyes wide, Skye nods her head frantically.

 

Smiling brightly, Clint continues, “And Dad agrees?”

 

Taking his cue, Phil cuts in, “She’s been the very best, as always.”

 

Clint nods sagely, stroking his white, fluffy beard. “Just as I thought. Well then, I suppose we should take a look and see what the elves put together for you, hm?” With that, he shrugs the sack off his shoulder and plops it down in front of Skye, waving her forward to open it. “Go on, it won’t bite,” he assures with a twinkle in his eye.

 

Skye shuffles forward hesitantly, and Lucky sticks right by her the whole time, like he’s propping her up. She glances from Santa then to Phil, then back again before finally putting out a hand to pull back an edge of the red felt bag. Inside, there’s something shiny and chrome-colored with a bright red bow stuck on top. It’s not until Skye lifts it out of the folds of fabric completely that Phil can tell what it is--a dog. A robot-dog.

 

It barks suddenly, eyes lighting up with a faint glow, and both Skye and Phil jump in surprise, prompting Clint to chuckle. Skye brings the robot-dog up close to her face, staring in amazement, and then it _speaks_ , “Hi there! I have just met you, and I love you!”

 

Skye’s eyes have grown as wide as saucers. “Daddy! He’s just like Dug! Can I keep him? Please, please, please?”

 

Phil cuts Clint a look well over her head as he sighs, “Well, he is a present, after all.”

 

She pumps up a fist in triumph, and then she’s back to cooing over her new--pet? “So cool! Oh, you need a bed! And toys! Oh, oh, I know--Come on, Rudolph!”

 

She dashes out of the room, Lucky obediently following at her heels, leaving Phil alone with Clint so he can finally ask, “How on Earth--”

 

“I’m Santa.” Clint grins at him, and even through the fake beard, it’s decidedly too attractive. “It’s magic.”

 

Phil shakes his head as he plants his hands on his hips. “You didn’t have to--”

 

“It’s all good,” Clint quickly interrupts, waving away the rest of Phil’s words. “This is what I do. I mean, this time of year, anyways.” Phil looks back at him questioningly, and Clint explains, “I volunteer at the local orphanages and the children’s wards at the hospitals. Me and Luck. We hand out presents, do some story time--gotta spread that Christmas joy, you know?”

 

Phil looks back at him for a moment, dumbfounded. This man in front of him is kind and generous and gorgeous and--impossible. “How are you this perfect?” Phil demands.

 

Clint’s expression loses all its casual confidence as an embarrassed flush highlights his features--his cheeks like roses and his nose like a cherry. “I don’t know about all that--”

 

Phil cuts him off rather expediently by stepping in close and kissing him quiet. The beard is rather troublesome in this particular instance, but for the chance to kiss his wonderful neighbor Clint? Phil would weather a lot worse.

 

When Phil pulls back, Clint’s staring at him, licking his lips distractingly. “What, is there mistletoe hanging over me or something?” he asks.

 

“No, I just really wanted to kiss you,” Phil admits softly.

 

“Oh. Cool,” Clint breaths out. “I was really wanting to kiss you too.”

 

“You should do that then.”

 

“Yeah, I should.”

 

Their next, lengthier kiss is interrupted when from out of nowhere--honestly, Phil didn’t hear her _or_ Lucky heading back their way--Skye suddenly says, “Hey, Santa?”

 

They scramble apart and Clint starts immediately smoothing out the buttons on his red coat, clearing his throat before replying in that ridiculous voice, “Uh, yes. What is it, Skye?”

 

She blinks up at the two of them innocently, and Phil knows what’s about to come out of her mouth will be a doozy, but even he couldn’t have predicted she’d ask, “If you marry Daddy and become my other daddy, would that make Rudolph my brother?”


End file.
